


and it's a long way back from seventeen

by cherryvanilla



Category: South Park
Genre: Adulthood, First Time, Future Fic, Getting Together, High School, M/M, One Night Stands, Pining, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: “Dude, are youevergonna tell me what exactly happened there?”“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stan,” Kyle replies, even though he’s barely breathing now. Of course Stan had to go there. This was theonefucking secret Kyle’s ever kept from him and he’s done a pretty damn good job of it. He was planning on taking it to his fucking grave because the patheticness of the situation was just -- well, it was pathetic.Stan snorts. “Yeah, alright. You fuckin’ clam up anytime I mention his name, man. I really thought you guys had started to put all that sworn enemies shit behind you senior year.”





	and it's a long way back from seventeen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliassmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliassmith/gifts).



> I've had this idea in my head since Bored to Death by Blink 182 came out and I finally got around to writing it. As always, this is for Lisa <3
> 
> Title and lyrics from are from the aformentioned song. 
> 
> Mix that goes with the fic can be found [here](https://8tracks.com/sometimesalways/and-it-s-a-long-way-back-from-seventeen/)
> 
> Major thanks to Nellie for super beta <333 
> 
> The standard warnings for Eric Cartman's everything apply (although he's honestly pretty mellow in this one. Future fic, amirite).

I. _I'm not coming home, save your breath_

The invite arrives through Facebook, because of course it does. Kyle doesn’t even like Facebook anymore and his account is basically inactive, he’s just never formally deleted it. So he still receives the notification to become a member of the South Park High’s 10-year Reunion Official Facebook page. Kyle checks it out out of sheer curiosity, even as it makes him roll his eyes. Of course Wendy is one of the organizers, along with Bebe. 

Wendy is married with two kids and still lives in South Park. Kyle only goes back holidays and the occasional birthday. He moved to Portland for college and hasn’t left since. It’s a great city with so much more culture than anything South Park has to offer. Plus, he feels he can be himself here. Can walk down the street and hold hands with a dude if he wants to without it becoming an entire event like when Craig and Tweek got together. 

Stan lives in Denver, Kenny is in North Park, Craig and Tweek are in San Francisco, Butters is in Florida, Token is in Boston, and Cartman — well, Kyle actually has no friggin clue where Cartman is. He doesn’t have a Facebook anymore (not like Kyle is keeping tabs on him or anything) and Kyle hasn’t heard his name mentioned in a long time. He checks the attending/not attending section of the page and sure enough Stan is going, Craig and Tweek aren’t, Token is, Kenny is undecided, and Butters hasn’t responded yet. 

Kyle sighs and closes his laptop. There’s no reason for him to even consider this. He still sees the people he actually cares to see from high school. The rest of it is just a bunch of people trying to play revisionist history with what their lives were actually like back then and who they were friends with. 

It’s fake and annoying and Kyle has no idea why he’s spent even this long thinking about it. 

He opens his laptop again and resolutely clicks “not attending.”  
______________________________

Stan calls him five days later. 

“Oh come on, Kyle, it’ll be fun.” 

Kyle pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it like it’s grown legs. “Fun,” he repeats flatly into his cell. “Stan, might I remind you high school wasn’t exactly _fun_. And this shit is just fake nostalgia for the sake of nostalgia. AKA everything I hate.” 

“Well… yeah, alright, but so what dude? You don’t have to hang out with everyone, just the people you like. And in that way, it’ll be exactly like it was in high school, right?” 

Kyle groans. “When I want to hang out with you guys, I do. Why do we have to in this painfully socialized setting?” 

Stan laughs. “Geez, Kyle, and I thought I was introvert of the two of us.” 

“Fuck you, Stan. Besides, you only want me there because you don’t want to face Wendy and her husband alone.” 

“I care absolutely nothing about Mrs. Wendy Testaburger-Thompson, you know that.” 

“Suuuure you don’t, Stan.” 

Kyle waits for it in 3, 2...

“I can’t believe she took his name! Even _with_ the hyphen, Kyle, what the fuck happened to miss feminist and how archaic and patriarchal it is that women still take men’s last names. And her father _gave her away_ at the wedding, Kyle!” 

Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Stan, I’m aware. It has been five years, after all.” 

“Shit,” Stan whispers quietly. “You’re so lucky, man. Years of unrequited pining are not fun, let me tell you.” 

Kyle snorts, a dull pain he’s spent years burying suddenly throbbing to the surface. “Yeah. Definitely never experienced that,” he replies, voice way too flat, but Stan barely notices. 

“Alright, so yeah, it would be good to have you there. Who knows if Kenny’s gonna show up and he’ll probably just blurt out that I wish Wendy’d had my babies. Butters is… well, Butters. Craig and Tweek are off in gay wedded bliss, Token is apathetic, and Cartman... Actually, I have no idea what’s up with Cartman. Do you?” 

“Nope, no clue,” Kyle replies, voice tight, his grip on the phone white-knuckled. 

“Think last I heard from Kenny that bastard was in New York. Can you believe it? Cartman more worldly than either of us?” 

“Hmph.” 

Stan’s quiet. Too quiet. Kyle’s heart beats rapidly. 

“Dude, are you _ever_ gonna tell me what exactly happened there?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stan,” Kyle replies, even though he’s barely breathing now. Of course Stan had to go there. This was the _one_ fucking secret Kyle’s ever kept from him and he’s done a pretty damn good job of it. He was planning on taking it to his fucking grave because the patheticness of the situation was just -- well, it was pathetic. 

Stan snorts. “Yeah, alright. You fuckin’ clam up anytime I mention his name, man. I really thought you guys had started to put all that sworn enemies shit behind you senior year.” 

“Yeah, well, we didn’t,” Kyle mutters, and hopes the bitterness isn’t present in his voice. “What’s it even matter, anyway? It’s not like you’ve kept in touch with him.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s different. I wasn’t all -- I dunno, wrapped up in him like you were.” 

Kyle is so done with this conversation. “Look, Stan, I’ll… think about going, alright? But you gotta get over Wendy, man. It’s been years, this shit ain’t healthy.” 

Kyle feels like the biggest hypocrite in the world as he says the words, but that’s for him to live with and no one else. 

“I know, I know, you’re right. Alright, text me your decision. Later, dude.” 

“Later,” Kyle says, and hangs up, throwing himself down on his couch. This is so dumb. He shouldn’t go. Even _if_ Cartman isn’t there, just being in that environment, on those school grounds -- it won’t do anything but bring up old shit he still can’t seem to put behind him. 

Twenty minutes later he’s looking up flights to South Park. He always was his own worst enemy.   
______________________________

II. _so let me buy you a drink and we'll pretend that you think  
that I'm the man of your dreams come to life in a dive bar_

The reunion is as tedious as Kyle expected. People he hasn’t seen in a decade acting like he was their best friend back in school even if they’d barely talked. Bebe trying to get the “scoop” on his love life, Red asking him if Kenny was coming, Wendy trying to pretend like she _wasn’t_ eying Stan up and down even while on her husband’s arm (Kyle gave them another 30 minutes before they were fucking in the bathroom and he _seriously_ didn’t want to know about it if he was right). 

He tries to pretend he isn’t checking the door every 10 seconds and by the time Heidi comes over to catch up, and casually asks if he’s “heard from Eric lately,” Kyle is so disgusted with himself that he has to leave. Taking one last swig of terrible punch, he books it out of there after 45 minutes, which was 40 minutes too long if you asked him. 

He finds himself roaming the streets of his old town. It’s weird, how a place that was home for so many years can feel like it never truly was. Kyle shouldn’t feel like a stranger in his hometown, but he does and no amount of Thanksgiving and Hanukkah visits home will change that. 

He ends up standing in front of the shitty dive bar his dad and Mr. Marsh always frequented. Kyle told himself he’d go there with the guys before he left for college, drink with his fake I.D., but they’d never gotten around to it. 

From the look of it the place is rather dead for 8 p.m. on a Saturday night, but he goes inside anyway, not even bothering to glance around as he takes a seat at the bar. Nothing ever changed in this town anymore; Kyle is sure the same old people who’d been coming here when he was a kid still are, that the half-broken jukebox is still against the wall, that the felt torn pool table that had seen better days is still in the corner. 

He’s been sitting there for at least a few minutes, his phone blowing up with texts from Stan asking where he went, and hasn’t even seen the bartender yet. 

“Buy you a drink?” Kyle hears to his right and turns to find -- Cartman. He looks -- he looks fucking good. Taller than he was senior year, thick thighs, extra pounds that he wears well, his face more angled, mature. 

Kyle can’t seem to get his mouth to work and now Cartman is already perched on the stool next to him. “You lose your speech in the past 10 years, Jew? Damn, miracles do still happen.” 

“What are you doing here?” Kyle blurts, accustory. 

Cartman raises one eyebrow before nodding slowly to the glass of beer in his hand. “It’s called a bar, Kyle. People drink in it. And you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Before Kyle can address Cartman the bartender’s in front of them, looking at Kyle expectantly. “Oh. Uh. Jack and Coke, I guess.”

“Fancy,” Cartman hums. “Big step up from Natty Ice.” 

Kyle flinches against a memory. He’s suddenly so fucking tired, anger immediately draining from his body. “Why are you buying me a drink, Cartman?” 

Cartman pauses for a moment, as if sensing the change. “Well…” he replies, drawing out the word. “Kenny saw you sitting over here sad and drinkless and thought I should come over and help you out with that. Said you were always pretty useless in bars.” 

Kyle blinks, looks behind him at the scattered tables. “Kenny’s here?” 

“Mm. Looks like he’s leaving.” 

Kyle spins toward the door just in time to meet Kenny’s eyes. He shoots Kyle a small wave and a cryptic thumbs up, head jerking toward Cartman. Kyle’s mouth feels dry. 

“Almost didn’t recognize you without that stupid hat,” Cartman was saying. 

Kyle has to bite his lip so as not to reply that Cartman had definitely seen him without it the last time they were together. Ran his hands through his hair, even. He shakes off the unbidden memory. 

“You in town for the reunion?” he asks instead, absently, while shoving his phone down near his lap so Cartman can’t see. He fires off a quick text to Kenny, asking where the fuck he went. 

“Huh? Nah, living back home the last few months.” 

Kyle’s drink comes then and Cartman pushes it toward him. Kyle takes a sip, throat parched, the liquid cool and smooth and exactly what he needed. “Really? That’s rough.” 

Cartman shrugs. “It’s fine. I kinda move all over. Work as a bouncer, bartender, whatever I can find. Keeps shit interesting. The world is my oyster, Jew.” 

Kyle rolls his eyes. “And now your oyster is South Park again.” 

“So? It’s just temporary. And Kenny’s over in North Park, so he keeps shit interesting.” 

_Kenny_ , Kyle thinks. He looks down at his phone, sees that his text was responded with a winky face emoji, the mysterious bastard. _Traitor_. “Since when are you two so tight?” 

Cartman grins at him lavaciously and Kyle suppresses a shiver. “Careful or you’ll sound jealous, Kyle. Plus you know I always liked Kenny the most out of you losers.” 

Kyle frowns into his drink, trying to control his temper. Cartman was insufferable and Kyle was _not_ fucking jealous. 

He decides to just ignore him, hoping Cartman will take the hint and leave. He doesn’t. 

“How’s life in Portland?” 

Kyle’s head snaps up. “How’d you know where I live?” 

“We have mutual friends? Facebook exists? Geez, relax, I’m not some stalker.” 

“You’re not on Facebook,” Kyle replies unthinkingly, and Cartman’s grin widens. 

“Alright, so maybe _you’re_ the stalker.” 

“Fuck you, I’m not,” Kyle replies hotly. “I don’t even fucking like Facebook.” 

My, how times have changed. I remember when you were Facebook friend obsessed, Jew.” 

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well. We were fuckin’ kids back then, fat-ass.”

Cartman just hums. 

“Portland’s fine,” Kyle mumbles, giving in to this small talk bullshit they appear to be doing, while completely ignoring the elephant in the room. Or who knows, maybe Cartman doesn’t even fucking remember. Wouldn’t that be something. “I work for a nonprofit, it’s good.” 

“Sounds exhilarating,” Cartman deadpans. 

“Well, we can’t all move around whenever we feel like and then come home to Mommy whenever we need.” 

Kyle wonders if he went too far with that when Cartman says nothing. He sits awkwardly, staring at the back of the bar and sipping his drink until he finally turns to look at him. Cartman’s just staring at him, eyes like lasers through Kyle’s brain as their gazes meet. “Are we seriously going to do this?”

“Do what?” 

“Pretend the last time I saw you your dick wasn’t in my mouth.”

Kyle flushes to the tips of his ears, a wave of anger rushing over him at Cartman having the _audacity_ to bring up the one thing Kyle hasn’t put into words for a decade. It’s actually _worse_ than if he’d forgotten it all together, because now it’s just fucking out there with no take backs. 

He grinds his teeth together, exhales sharply, and forces his voice to be steady as he says, “Seems as though you made it very clear back then we wouldn’t talk about it, so no, I hadn’t planned on bringing it up, thanks.” 

Then he slams his glass down, gets off his stool, and calmly starts to walk away. 

“Oh jesus christ, would you quit the dramatic exit and come back here?” 

Kyle turns on his heel, eyes flashing. He opens his mouth to shout, thinks better of it after glancing around him. Sure, there’s only a few people scattered around, but still. 

He walks up to Cartman steadily. “You’re one to talk about _dramatic exits_ , asshole,” he whispers hotly. 

Kyle lets himself think about it then, the stupid sore of a memory he’d shoved into the back of his mind. The two of them on the football field together the night of graduation. They’d all gone back after their respective family engagements, chugging Natty Ice and smoking some of Kenny’s weed. When everyone begged off Kyle had said he wanted to stay a bit longer, was enjoying just laying under the stars. Cartman had said he’d hang around too. Kyle still remembers the look Stan had shot him, a silent “You sure, man?”, but he just nodded and waved him off. School was finally over, it wasn’t like him and Cartman would kill each other _now_ of all times. 

Besides, if Kyle was honest with himself, something had been building between them for a while, tipping over during prom. Cartman danced with Heidi, Kyle danced with no one at all, and yet their eyes still met across the gymnasium floor. Cartman and Heidi had been on and off forever and it looked like they were back on. Kyle hated the angry furl of jealousy it made him feel and, moreover, he’d finally stopped lying to himself that it was Cartman he was jealous of. 

He’d felt pinned by Cartman’s gaze that night, unable to look away, and when he finally got home he’d jerked off furiously, trying not to think about what Cartman was probably doing with Heidi right that moment while Kyle had gone and pathetically fallen for the one person he was supposed to hate. He wasn’t even sure when it had happened, couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. Honestly, it was possible it’d always been there. That their entire fucking coexistence had just been one long game of pigtail pulling. 

And that night, alone together under the bleachers, drunk and high -- well, Kyle supposed it was fucking inevitable. Cartman and Heidi had spectacularly broken up once more a few days after prom and he and Cartman had been eye-fucking one another amidst insults ever since. 

Kyle still had no idea who reached out first, who pulled whom in for that first kiss. All he remembered now was how it felt -- the weight of Cartman’s body on top of him, the heat of his mouth, the way he’d sucked Kyle’s dick with an abandon and hunger that was almost unbearably hot. The way he’d pulled off just before he could come and shoved his own pants down. The way Kyle had taken both their cocks in hand and jacked them together slowly while they ate at one another’s mouths. The way Cartman sounded as he came, a choked off moan against Kyle’s lips. The way Kyle shook and moaned and came with his face buried in Cartman’s neck. The way they’d fallen asleep tangled together, Cartman’s fingers combing through his messy curls, Kyle’s hat thrown somewhere behind them. 

And most importantly, the way he’d woken up alone and half naked on the grass like he was Lux fucking Lisbon, except Cartman was certainly no Trip fucking Fontaine. There was no phone call, no text, no Cartman showing up at his door in a nice sweater.

Kyle had been leaving the next night for a summer long backpacking trip around Europe that he, Stan and Kenny had been saving up for the past two years. And when he got back, it was only a few days before he was off to college in Portland. He never did see Cartman when he got back, and his phone was still radio silent. Kyle refused to be the one to ask what the fuck had happened. That would make it seem like he actually cared and well -- to care about Eric Theodore Cartman? That would’ve been the dumbest thing in the world. 

Back in the here and now, Cartman’s staring at him, like he knows exactly where Kyle’s thoughts have just been, like he can read it all on his face. The unspoken “you were the one who just took off” was hanging between them now like it has been for 10 years. 

“What do you want me to say?” Cartman whispers furiously. “That I regret it? Alright, I regret it.” 

Kyle scoffs, eyebrows knit together. “Like I didn’t already know that! Thanks, fat-ass, for confirming!” 

“Wha -- oh for fuck’s sake, not the --” he mimics a blowjob with his mouth and Kyle hates how hot he finds it even through his embarrassment. “The --” and this time Cartman makes a walking away motion with his fingers. 

Kyle rolls his eyes, even as his heart pounds. “Real fucking mature apology.” 

Cartman’s eyes flash, muscle jumping in his jaw. He leans in close, half off his stool, to Kyle’s ear. “‘Kay, how’s this? I’m sorry I ran off after sleeping with you a fucking decade ago, douchebag, I kinda freaked the fuck out. It’s not as if you weren’t leaving for Europe in a matter of days and then fucking _college_. What exactly was supposed to happen? And okay, I’m not sure if that’s what normal people do after boning the dude they’d been obsessed with forever, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

Kyle shivers, possibly from Cartman’s breath that was ghosting over his ear, or possibly from the words. He has no fucking clue anymore.

Cartman leans back and when he meets Kyle’s eyes they’re less sure, almost vulnerable. It’s fucking weird as hell to see. 

Kyle swallows hard. “Yeah, well. No one ever accused you of being normal, Cartman.” 

Cartman grins, slowly, and god dammit, Kyle finds himself grinning back. 

“Do I get belated points if I said I was actually about to head over to the reunion to win you back?” 

Kyle’s stomach flips ridiculously. “Yeah, right,” he mutters. 

“I was! I was just partaking in a little liquid courage with Kenny --” 

“Oh, god, Kenny _knows_?” 

Cartman frowns. “‘Course he knows. Been telling me to call you for fuckin’ years now.” 

Kyle’s cheeks feel like they’re burning up, and he feels abruptly bad for never telling Stan while simultaneously embarrassed that Kenny’s known all along. “He never said anything.” 

“Well no, or I would’ve killed him.” 

Kyle snorts, then pauses. “And you never called.” 

Cartman’s bravado falters for a moment. “Yeah, well. Kinda convinced myself you were drunk and probably regretted it yourself.”

Kyle shakes his head. “You always were the biggest fucking idiot, fat-ass.” 

“And you always were my favorite person to have insult me, Jewboy,” Cartman shoots back, faux-sweet yet so fucking sincere. 

“Shut up.” His cheeks get even hotter if that’s possible, probably matching the color of his hair by this point. Thank christ for darkly-lit bars. 

Cartman smirks, slowly, like he knows all the same. “ _Anyway_ , had this whole plan. Was gonna make sure I Swear was playing right when I walked into the auditorium. Thanks for fucking up my _Pretty in Pink_ moment, douchebag.” 

“Oh god,” Kyle replies weakly. He can see it so vividly, though. Cartman so totally _would_ have. Kyle isn’t sure if he’s happy or disappointed that he didn’t get to witness it. 

“Wanna get outta here?” 

Kyle blinks at him, still lost in envisioning Cartman’s grand gesture. “Huh?” 

“That’s what I would’ve said, after getting you to forgive me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well?” Cartman stares at him, the air between them suddenly thick. “Whaddya say, Jew?” 

“I say move your fat ass, fat-ass.” 

Then Kyle turns and walks out of the bar, knowing Cartman is right on his heels and that this time there isn’t a risk of being left alone.   
______________________________

III. _Life is too short to last long_

“Fuck, do you have anything?” Kyle pants through feverish kisses, naked and balanced on Cartman’s thighs as they attack one another’s mouths. 

“Yeah,” Cartman grunts, his big hands on Kyle’s ass, squeezing hard. “In my pocket, lemme --” 

Cartman tips him to left while leaning to his right and Kyle laughs breathlessly, dragging a hand through his tangled mess of curls. “Awfully sure of yourself, huh?” 

Cartman grins back at him from where he’s half hanging off the bed and reaching for his jeans, his mouth shiny and red. “I prefer to think of it as hopeful.”

Kyle breathes out, body tingling at the thought of what they are about to do. He barely remembers the walk back to the hotel, too lost in a haze of lust. Then they were finally in his room and it had been fast and frantic from the get go: bodies banging against the door, the wall, shoes kicked across the room, clothes shed and forming a trail to the bed. 

They’d made out for what felt like an eternity, completely naked, bodies slick with sweat, until Cartman finally pushed Kyle down onto the mattress and licked his way down his body before sucking his dick. It was better than Kyle remembered it, Cartman’s mouth hot and tight and taking all of him. Kyle had to return the favor, never got a chance to last time. He’d found himself addicted to Cartman’s dick already, not huge but thick, just like the rest him -- Kyle couldn’t stop running his hands up his thighs, over his stomach, so fucking turned on it wasn’t even funny.

Finally, they’d gotten to this moment, after Cartman had whispered, “Want you to ride my dick so fucking bad,” while Kyle had been straddling his thighs as they kissed. 

Kyle watches now as Cartman fumbles with the condom wrapper and tosses him the lube. “Make yourself useful, lazy ass.” 

Kyle snorts and pops open the tube. “You really are a master at romance, man.” 

Cartman scoffs. “You ruined my romantic gesture earlier, dude. My romance quota is eaten up for at least another six months, better deal with it.”

Kyle pushes down the casual mention of a future and instead mutters, “I’ll try and live.” Then he lies down on his back, slicks up his fingers and pushes one inside, then another. 

“Oh, fuck,” he hears muttered faintly, looks up to find Cartman just staring at him from the foot the bed where he was kneeling and rolling the condom on. Kyle’s eyes go dark at the sight of him. He licks his lips when Cartman’s dick jumps in his own grip while Kyle’s pushing his fingers in a little deeper, spreading his legs a little wider. 

“Fuck, should’ve known you’d be shameless.”

“Just doin’ what you told me to, jackass.” His words hitch as he finds his prostate, going breathless at the end. 

“Fuck,” Cartman repeats and crawls forward, knocking Kyle’s hand away and pushing his own finger in. It burns even with the lube that he’s spread inside but my god, was it a delicious burn. 

Cartman fumbles one-handed with the lube, manages to messily poor some on his fingers and pushes back in. Pretty soon Kyle’s keening on the bed, back arched as they kiss dirty and hot, while Cartman fingerfucks him till he’s panting. 

“Christ, get on me,” Cartman groans, flipping them around so he’s on his back, half sitting up against the headboard. 

Kyle bends to kiss his shoulder, bite his chest, and then grips Cartman’s dick and sinks down slowly. 

“Oh shit, Eric,” he breathes, the stretch almost too much to start. It’s been a while. 

Cartman’s staring at him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck, his hands stroking Kyle’s hips, his thighs. “God, that’s it, take it. Take it, Kyle.”

Kyle laughs hoarsely, even as he does just that. “You watch too much porn.”

“You clearly don’t watch enough,” Cartman shoots back and then groans, eyes falling shut when Kyle is fully seated. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Yeah,” Kyle whispers, thighs straining, his lip pulled between his teeth as he adjusts himself, getting used to the feel of Cartman’s dick inside him. 

Cartman’s hands smooth over his torso, slide back to cup his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and dragging his thumb down his crack. Kyle shivers. 

“You alright?” he asks quietly and Kyle nods, tries to focus his eyes. 

“M’good,” Kyle breathes out. “You ready?”

“Been ready for years,” Cartman murmurs, so low Kyle barely hears it. His heart thumps and he starts to move, rocking back and forth, finding a slow rhythm. Cartman drags him down by the back of his neck and then they’re kissing, wet and open-mouthed again. It changes the angle a bit, Kyle having to push back further, Cartman’s dick half out of him on every tip forward until he rocks back on it. It’s good, so good, the smooth glide of Cartman inside him, the way his strong thighs are working upward to meet Kyle on every thrust. Pretty soon he’s moaning loudly into Cartman's neck and bouncing on his dick shamelessly, the two of them sitting up now, locked around one another. Cartman's hands are beneath his ass, helping raise Kyle up and down on his cock. 

“God, god, look at you,” Cartman pants against Kyles’ skin. “Shit, you’re gonna make me come, that god damn tight ass.”

Kyle gasps, lifts up even higher and slams back down, his dick rock hard and leaking between their bellies. “Hell yeah. Almost there. Touch me, you fucker.”

“You say the sweetest things, darling,” Cartman deadpans breathlessly, and then he’s jerking Kyle rough and perfect. Kyle screams when he comes, head thrown back and body jerking. 

“Shit, god, Kyle,” Cartman moans, mouth on his Adam’s apple, sucking as his hips stutter and his thighs shake as he fucks up and up, coming in jerky thrusts. 

Kyle falls forward, knocking Cartman backward in the process. They tumble onto the mattress together.

“Oh my god,” Kyle groans, body still shaking with aftershocks as Cartman slips half out of him. 

“Christ,” Cartman whispers, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, his neck. “Pulling out, hang on,” he warns and Kyle just nods weakly against his neck as he does so with an obscene pop. 

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Cartman groans, dislodging Kyle off him and swinging his legs off the bed, holding onto the offending latex before peeling it off and standing on unsteady legs. 

Kyle groans into the pillow before turning onto his back and stretching his legs out. He hears the toilet flush and then Cartman's walking back into the room, naked and still half hard. His face red, his body slick with perspiration and Kyle’s come and shit but Kyle wants him all over again. 

Cartman flops gracelessly onto the bed, shoulder knocking into Kyle’s own and tangling their ankles together. 

They’re quiet for a few moments and Kyle wonders if this is when the post-coital freak out is supposed to set in, except all he feels is an odd sense of calm. 

“How long you in town?” Cartman finally asks as they lay there on their backs staring up the ceiling, chests still heaving, breathing still coming down. 

“Just the weekend.” 

“Hmm,” Cartman hums, before reaching half off the bed for his discarded pants again. This time he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “You mind?” 

Kyle isn’t exactly used to a Cartman who asks about things like this. The old Cartman would deliberately blow smoke in his face on the blacktop while Kyle bitched him out for not giving a shit about the effects of secondhand smoke. 

“Nah,” he replies, stretching his back a little. “Gimme one.” 

Cartman raises an eyebrow at him, cigarette dangling from his lips. It shouldn’t be so hot. “You? Mr. anti-cancer?” 

“ _Everyone_ is anti-cancer, numbnuts!” 

Cartman laughs, hands Kyle the cigarette he’d just lit before lighting another for himself. They exhale at the same time. This is the only time Kyle smokes nowadays, after sex, and well -- it’s been a while for both of those things. 

They don’t say anything for long moments, sitting up against the headboard together, smoking in what shouldn’t really be companionable silence, their shoulders pressed together. 

“They got decent bars up in Portland, huh?” Cartman finally says and at first it seems like a non-sequitur until Kyle remembers the last thing they were talking about before the cigarettes. 

“Um, yeah, I guess.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Kyle sees Cartman shrug. “Could head on up, try it out for a bit.” 

The cigarette nearly falls from his lips. He turns his head to look at Cartman, realization slowly sinking in, his stomach a twisted tangle of excitement and terror. “Cartman... we’d kill each other.” 

“Yeah? Maybe. But we’d have some pretty fucking sweet make-up sex afterwards.”

Kyle laughs, unable to deny that. He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray on the night table, then turns his body toward Cartman. “You’re serious about this?”

“Past ten years haven’t been too much to write home about,” Cartman shrugs. “Might as well follow through on the thing I was too chicken shit to back then.”

It’s the closest thing to real romantic sentimentality he’s ever heard from Cartman, and moreover he actually sounds genuine. Apparently he was way off about that six month quota. 

Kyle’s heart thumps loudly in his chest, echoing in his ears, and then he’s nodding and swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Alright. Let’s give it a shot.”

Cartman’s eyes widen for a split second, like he truly didn’t expect Kyle to say yes. Then he’s smirking and putting out his own cigarette before leaning into Kyle’s space. “Knew I’d wear you down, bitch.” 

He bites Kyle’s neck, soothing the sting of it over with his tongue, and Kyle rolls his eyes while his body shivers. 

“Yeah yeah, like you weren’t just practically begging.”

“Oh, I’ll show you begging,” Cartman promises, voice dirty and low, going straight to Kyle’s dick. 

Kyle laughs as he’s tipped back on the bed sheets, lets himself be thoroughly kissed. There’s so much about Cartman he still doesn’t know. So many years of this infuriating boy who was now a man, who could be stupidly sexy (and gosh, that was weird) and sweet (and that was even weirder), but, shit, he’s excited to get to know it all. 

Kyle had never wanted to come home for this, never wanted to face this particular reminder of his high school days. And now, he possibly has a boyfriend out of the deal. He has no damn clue what’s going to happen, but he figures life is too short to waste on wondering. 

Kyle Broflovski, age 27, is just going to go with the flow and see where it leads them both. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
